


Respite

by isuilde



Series: Respite Verse [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Domesticity, Future Fic, M/M, Unrepentant Fluff, in which everyone's all grown up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:38:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to stop, to charge himself up before he goes back running, a place to rest for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

> First Free! fic. In which Rin is a swimming athlete, Makoto is a marine biology student, Nagisa and Haruka co-own a swimming club and teach there, and Rei manages a personal gallery.

Makoto’s morning kisses taste like lunch. 

Mostly, Rin thinks, even as his hand settles on Makoto’s neck and pulls him down, that’s because Makoto’s probably been up hours before Rin does, scuttling around in the kitchen making lunch boxes. Three, to be precise, each one for Rin, Makoto himself, and Haruka. Sometimes Makoto makes more, at Nagisa’s request, or if his twin siblings randomly decide to spend their holiday messing around in their brother’s apartment in Tokyo. 

“Croquettes,” Rin mumbles against Makoto’s lips, feels rather than hears the laughter that escapes from there. Makoto’s weight settles between his legs, and Rin tries hard not to smirk when he grinds down. 

“You’re going to be late,” is what Makoto manages to come out between breathless laugh. Rin answers by biting Makoto’s lower lip and winding his arms around Makoto’s broad shoulders, arches his back when Makoto presses their hips together and  _moves_. It’s nice, slow and lazy and Rin isn’t sure whether it’s because his brain hasn’t awaken enough yet, but it feels a bit more—intimate, perhaps that’s the right word. 

Makoto likes to kiss him when they have morning sex—Rin can usually count the seconds that pass by before Makoto’s lips find his own again, deep and languid and thorough. Maybe it’s the lazy atmosphere, maybe it’s because secretly Makoto likes Rin’s morning breath or something, but Makoto always, always comes with a soft, deep growl that Rin gladly swallows. 

“Good morning,” Makoto grins down at him, the sun rays golden against his eyelashes. Rin catches his breath, kisses Makoto again just because his lips are there, and then pushes gently at his chest. 

“Get off, I’m going to be late.” 

He elbows Makoto aside, getting off bed and swatting at him when he tries to ruffle Rin’s hair, and listens to the laughter that drifts out even as the bathroom door closes behind him. Rin gives himself a moment of pause, basking in the soft laughter and the lazy air surrounding this place—their place—with a small smile, before stepping over to the sink. 

His training regime should be doubled up today, if his coach was serious about getting him top shape for the next tournament. There’s a lot of things to do; he’s going to have to read the newest research that Gou sent him concerning his diet, there’s a meeting with his sponsors scheduled at one-thirty, and his manager has been hounding him about his publicity—he needs to deal with that, too. 

_Well_ , Rin thinks as he finishes shaving the stubbles covering his chin,  _good thing I made sure to charge up this morning_. 

  
**——-o0o——-**  

Apparently, today Haruka decides to call in the favor that Rin’s coach owed him. 

He and Nagisa comes over to the pool with what could have been an army of kids on their heels; all loud and excited and all “Coach Nanase, Coach Nanase, Coach Nagisa, Coach Nagisa!” endlessly. It isn’t the first time Haruka brings his swimming club students over to observe the professionals swim and goofing around with the athletes—“Haru thinks it’s a good experience for the kids,” Makoto explained the first time Rin wondered about it. “It’s how he gives motivation, because Haru never really urge them on with words, you know. He’s not Nagisa.” 

Sometimes Rin wonders why the fuck Haruka choose to be a coach, co-owning a swimming club with Nagisa, rather than pursuing the path of an athlete like Rin does. 

He catches sight of the kids training in the swimming pool when he comes out of his meeting; some of his fellow athletes helping out correcting the kids’ forms and postures while Nagisa chats with Rin’s coach. Haruka seems to be indulging himself with a swim; he’s slicing through the water on the 100 meter mark, gliding like he’s born in the water, still breathtakingly beautiful and dolphin-like. 

It sparks a red, ugly envy in Rin’s chest, because Rin is a hardworker, because Rin is no genius, and even now Rin doesn’t think he’s achieved the smooth perfection of Haruka’s form in the water. 

He dives in before he can even think about it, the water a familiar caress against his skin, and Rin lets his feet kick, each of his stroke chasing Haruka, slowly closing the gap between them until he’s  neck-to-neck with Haruka. He feels the tension building up, feels the very moment that Haruka accepts his challenge, and then they’re both racing in earnest, picking up speed and strength in strokes, moving through the water that’s embracing them, and Rin thinks,  _I’m a shark_. 

He puts more strength on his stroke and slices through the last meter. 

He wins, just barely, his now longer reach giving him an advantage against Haru. He surfaces with a victorious grunt to himself, glancing sideways to see Haruka shaking his head and wiping away the droplets of water hanging onto his eyelashes. 

“Good race,” Haruka  says, a tiny upward twitch on the corners of his lips as he offers a fist. Rin bumps it with his own, letting a small smirk graces his face, and reminds himself of the many opponents better than him—better than Haruka—to chase after. 

“You’re a waste, Haru,” he chides, because it’s true, because he genuinely thinks Haruka would have been a great athlete, a great rival. But Haruka chuckles and waves him away, attention now taken by the little brats swarming him because “Coach Nanase, that was great!” and “Coach Nanase, we want to see that again!” and Nagisa is offering Rin a hand to get off the pool, which he accepts. 

“Heard your time has been improving, Rin-chan,” Nagisa sings, and Rin elbows him none-too-gently for not omitting the ‘-chan’ part. The blond squirms, laughter tumbling off his lips. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Nagisa,” he threatens half-heartedly, only to get a cheeky grin aimed at him. 

“Aw, but I was being good and about to tell you that your cell was ringing,” and Rin’s cell is dangling in Nagisa’s hand. “I think it was Mako-chan.” 

“Give me that,” Rin snaps and snatches his cell off Nagisa’s hand, ignoring the obviously teasing tone in Nagisa’s laugh. He slides his thumb across the screen—three missed call, from Makoto. That’s unusual. Usually Makoto calls him at lunchtime—he’s got this complex of making sure Rin is doing okay; a habit Rin guesses had been directed to Haruka (and his siblings, and the fish pets he keeps, and the specimens he keeps in his lab, and so on and so forth) all these time. Makoto doesn’t obsessively check on him, though—at least not anymore, since that bumpy first year of their relationship, in which Rin told him off for that. 

He decides to call back. 

“Rin,” Makoto sounds relieved. “Is Haru with you?” 

He should be pissed off, maybe. A little. Oddly, he isn’t. “Yeah, he’s with the brats.” 

“And Nagisa?” 

“Him, too.” 

“Haru didn’t tell me he’s taking the kids over there today. I just dropped by and the club was empty, so I thought I’d check.” The casual tone in Makoto’s voice sounds forced, and Rin wonders if something happened in the university. “I think he left his cell phone back in the club.” 

“Oi, Haru!” Rin calls out, waiting for the dark-haired man to look up from the kids. “You forgot your cell phone, didn’t you?” 

Haruka blinks, shrugs, and goes back to his kids. There’s another splash—Nagisa apparently decides to jump on one of the kids, arising the inevitable ruckuss. Rin stares in disinterest for a moment, and then tells Makoto, “He doesn’t care.” 

“Well, my Mom’s been asking for him. Could you remind him to call her back later?” 

“Sure,” It’s the easiest answer to give, when Makoto’s on his full-on fussing mode. He doesn’t really have to do it, since he guesses Makoto will give Haruka another call later to remind him himself anyway. But the word is a reassurance for Makoto, something that sometimes it seems only Rin could give. Rin doesn’t mind, though. 

“And tell him to bring the lunch boxes he’s been compiling, I’ll drop by tomorrow and take them back.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“ He should get a decent meal for supper, too. He always gets mackerel, even Nagisa is complaining about it.” 

“I thought Nagisa likes Haru’s mackerel.” 

“He does. Rei doesn’t. He refuses to kiss Nagisa if he’s just eaten that.” 

“Makoto, I don’t need to know that!” he groans, shooting dark glances at Nagisa as if the blond was in the wrong. Nagisa doesn’t even notice him. 

Makoto’s chuckle drifts like the sound of the ocean. Rin misses it, and it’s stupid because he’s only heard it this morning, what the fuck. “Rin,” he says, pausing on the last syllable, his tone fond. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Going to be late,” Rin says, listens to Makoto’s acknowledgment, and hangs up. He walks over by the pool, crouching next to where Haruka is teaching a kid how to do turtle float. His fingers tug on Haruka’s swimming goggles, pulling on the strap and snapping it against the back of Haruka’s head. Haruka glares daggers at him, Rin smirks. 

“Call Makoto’s mom back,” he ticks it off his fingers, “and bring up all the lunch boxes with you tomorrow because Makoto’s going to drop by and take them back. Also, get something else for supper other than mackerel.” Rin makes a tsk-ing sound and shoves Haruka’s shoulder gently. “One of these days I’m going to get jealous of you.” 

 Nagisa laughs at the face Haruka makes. 

  
**——-o0o——-**  

His manager, surprisingly, lets him off earlier than he’s thought. 

Rin finds Makoto in the living room, half-buried amongst paperwork, a laptop balanced on his knees as he works. The TV is on, but set on mute, blinking out news and commercials that Makoto doesn’t even glance at. Rin drops his backpack next to their bedroom door and picks his way through the scattered papers on the floor. 

“I’m home,” he says, exhaustion slipping into his voice as he winds his arms around Makoto’s shoulders from behind. He nuzzles Makoto’s nape, feels the gentle rocks that Makoto’s body makes when he chuckles. “Research report, huh.” 

“Welcome back,” Makoto replies, half turning and tilting his head back, and Rin gladly takes the kiss that’s offered. “We lost some of the specimens; someone forgot to put them back on the fridge. It’s a dumb mistake. Have you eaten yet?” 

“I’ll just have instant ramen,” Rin says, because Makoto probably didn’t cook anything for supper. Rin was supposed to be late tonight, after all. “Or anything in the fridge, no big deal.” 

“Oh,” and that word comes out so casual, unlike Makoto’s ‘oh’s when he forgets to check on Haruka, or his siblings, or his fish pets, or his specimens. Rin likes that. “Okay. There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge, I think. Heat that up. How was the meeting?” 

“The worst,” Rin mouths against Makoto’s collarbone, giving in to the temptation of skin as he sinks his teeth gently and lets his tongue swipes the same place. He hears Makoto’s breath catches. “They want me to do more commercials, what the fuck. They should’ve gotten a model for that.” 

Makoto hums. “Except they know that you’re kind of more well-built than the average models?” 

“I’m an athlete. I should be winning for them, not prancing around in their new speedos and have dozens of cameras trailing behind me.” Rin straightens, squeezing Makoto’s shoulders before stepping away to the kitchen. “Publicity is stupid.” 

“Rin,” Makoto chides, but there’s amusement in his voice. “Publicity gets you money and better facilities for your training.” 

“It’s still stupid.” He rummages around in the fridge, finds the carton of Chinese and takes it out. “Not to mention that Haneda-san could have handled it even without me showing up at the meeting. I could’ve used that time to improve my time. Haru got pretty close today.” He pours the contents onto a plate—stir fry, huh, who the fuck ordered stir fry here, except yesterday Rei dropped by and yeah, it’s probably him. He sets the microwave. “I still think he’s such a waste.” 

Makoto is watching him from the living room, his shoulders relaxed and his expression easy. “Competitive swimming doesn’t suit Haru, you know that.” 

“It’s still vexing,” Rin admits, averting Makoto’s eyes and turning his gaze back to the microwave. “Even though he doesn’t train that much, he could still almost best me.” He takes a breath, releasing it carefully. “Sometimes I wonder if I ever really improved. If I could—” 

“You could,” Makoto says, and Rin looks up to his smile. “You could be so much more, Rin. You could go so much further.” 

The microwave dings. Rin ignores it, instead slowly taking the seven steps that is the gap between him and Makoto on the couch, reaching out to take Makoto’s face into his hands, sliding his fingers into Makoto’s hair, and breathes the same air that Makoto breathes before pressing their lips together. 

_Thank you_ , Rin thinks, because this man, this man makes him better, makes him more than the bitter guy he used to be, makes him fix what he’s ruined between himself and his friends, and gives him a place to come back to. A place to stop, to charge himself up before he goes back running, a place to rest for a while. 

He wants to make Makoto better, too. He isn’t sure he’s done that yet, isn’t sure if he’s doing the right thing, but the relaxed set of Makoto’s shoulders, the easy swipe of his tongue on Rin’s lips, the sigh that they share—Rin thinks he’s on the right track. 

Right now, he closes his eyes and forgets about running. 

**——-o0ofinitoo0o——-**


End file.
